Inferno
by MissTonks21
Summary: Harry Potter characters in Panem, non-magic. Harry was just a skinny little district 12 boy, one that nobody would look at twice - least of all expect to survive the dreaded hunger games. But who can ignore the child with blazing eyes, who unchecked might just start an inferno?
1. Chapter 1

Dudley Dursley was standing a little too close for the comfort of Harry Potter, who despite the looming threat of the reaping, hadn't forgotten the numerous times Dudley had taken advantage of their proximity to hurt Harry in some way. As if he wasn't already nervous enough!

He looked up at the faces of the equally nervous boys around his age and surreptitiously wiped his damp palms on Dudley's old jeans, because while there was a very slim chance that one of them would be reaped (after all it was only their first year, so none of their names had been entered too many times), if they were chosen it would mean certain death. For a child in district 12 was about as likely to win the hunger games, as the Capitol was to abolish them. [read: unlikely]

The thing was, Harry was almost certain he would be picked. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but at the rate the Dursleys had him signing up for tesserae he just knew he wouldn't make it to adulthood. This year (the first he had been entered in) he was signed for 6, one for each of the Dursleys and himself on top of his automatic entry. Which meant he was in considerably more danger than say Dudley, his fat oaf of a cousin, who 'just couldn't be signed up, not poor diddums' and thus only had his name entered once.

So he was exerting considerable effort trying to maintain the stoic mask which had been his best friend during life at the Dursleys while his heart beat an erratic rhythm to the tune of 'not me not me not me can't be me'.

Rita Skeeter the sweetheart of district 12 was currently pulling out a girl's name and relishing in the cameras focused on her rather terrifying visage;

"Katie Bell"

Her amplified voice rang across the crowds as the children collectively strained to see this year's victim. Harry didn't know her personally but as the shell-shocked girl managed to stumble up onto the stage he recognized her as one of the teens who often messed around on the verge when the boys played kick around during school.

After introductions had been made and the girl managed to look suitably fierce, more so than someone from district 12 had in a long time at any rate, Rita turned to the boy's names, ignoring the drunk Minerva tottering around the stage.

Looking around Harry reminded himself again that he was sure to be safe this year at least. So his name was in six times? - that was nothing compared to some of the older kids, it wasn't uncommon for the poorer families to take out around 20 by the time the kids got to old for the reaping. It wouldn't be him, not him, never him. Harry forced himself to breathe normally. Just breathe - don't choke - breathe.

And so when Rita's nasal, eerily delighted voice echoed round those gathered Harry wasn't too surprised when his name wasn't the one called out.

"Ronald Weasley!"

He did choke though.


	2. Chapter 2

Friendship had always seemed like a fairy tale to Harry, a childish dream, not something offered to dirty little burdens like him in a world like Panem. And so, after a while he even convinced himself he didn't need any, after all he was certain he wouldn't enjoy beating others up and that seemed to be all Dudley and his friends did together. Maybe he would have even felt that way forever if it weren't for an utterly clueless Ron Weasley and utterly persistent Hermione Granger coming along and changing his mind by sheer force of personality.

They became inseparable, sarcastically and fondly nicknamed 'the golden trio' by the peacekeepers because of all the trouble they found themselves in, and the rather unfortunate series of events which led to them being so close. To Harry they were the most important people in the world, and each few minutes he could steal in Molly Weasley's warm bustling kitchen and Hermione's parent's library (Her father was the Mayor) with his two best friends, his only family, felt like slices of another person's life. Especially to a boy who spent the majority of his childhood alternatively scavenging for food for his relatives, so as not to get a lashing and being locked away in a cupboard, not making a sound, so as not to get a lashing.

And when Ron's name was called out - Ron, brilliant, vibrant, 'this seat free mate?' Ronald Weasley, Harry didn't even have to think.

"I volunteer! Stop - stop - I volunteer!"

He pushed through the crowd around him ignoring the stunned Dudley and gaping classmates, wiggling round people until he was standing right in front of the stage clutching his baggy clothing, breathing heavily and looking every inch like a bedraggled kitten.

"I - I volunteer!"

* * *

After that things were a whirl of brightly coloured wigs and loud exclamations that Harry didn't even bother to try and make sense of and instead let his vacant gaze search the crowds for the mops of bright red hair saluting him with tears streaming down their faces. He barely even registered the answering salutes from the rest of his district and their stubborn refusal to applaud. So focused was he, on his family - the flashes of fire in a sea of coal grey. And it was only after when he was alone in the room that the peacekeepers guided him to, that he realized the full scale of what he had done.

It was suicide.

He was a child, one of the youngest in the reaping if not the youngest this year. He was tiny too - too small to possibly survive the games, and though he had built a little muscle from chores and illegally hunting and foraging to feed his relatives he had never been given enough food for it to last. Basically he was screwed.

No sponsor in their right mind would take him, he knew nothing that could help in the arena! He wasn't stupid, but he knew that to survive you needed to either be strong(and beautiful), extremely clever or an excellent strategist of which he was neither. God, even Dudley would have all been more suited to this. Hermione was supposed to be the clever one, and wasn't Ron always beating everyone at chess?

Harry wasn't supposed to do stuff like this. Harry let Dudley beat him up so he didn't get it worse at home. He sat quietly and read at break times to avoid the roughhousing and catch up on missed work. Didn't protest his lack of food and kept some catches to himself. Harry looked out for himself - always, it was always about survival, blending in, being 'just' Harry. Even after he became friends with Ron and 'Mione, with their sometimes hilarious sometimes terrifying adventures that were barely ever his fault, he always managed to stay in the background, but now...

He didn't have long to think on it either way as the first of his visitors came. Though he was disappointed in himself that he literally did a double take at the first person to walk through the door - 'come on potter you're better than this'.

"Aunt Petunia"

He tried to keep his voice neutral and not let his anxietyangerconfusion leak into his voice as practice for the Capitol but he wasn't sure how successful he was.

"Harry" Her voice broke and to Harry's utter horror she seemed as though she was going to break down in sobs, before the terrifying moment passed and she pulled herself together, her stick-thin arms flailing all the while, as though she couldn't decide weather to hug or hit him and instead settled on waving them protectively around her own sunken waist.

"I- that is to say we- your uncle and I -" she cut off after a moment looking pained and the silence started to stretch uncomfortably long. But a second before Harry was about to prompt her to either speak or leave, she continued, gaze darting around the room in accordance to her still wildly gesticulating arms.

"We have always tried to do our best for you. I know that - I know that - on, on occasion we may have seemed a bit harsh... But it was for your own good you see!" Her imploring eyes met his but seeing nothing she continued.

"Always so much like your parents were, so _alive_" - here she hissed the word as though it had offended her in some way - "so - so _free_ despite your situations. And I knew then that you would be like them, just as - as freakish, I saw the way you sneered at the Capitol and-" here she cut off abruptly and glanced around as if realizing that this probably wasn't the best time or place to be having such a borderline dangerous conversation. As suddenly as it appeared the nervous energy positively crackling around ebbed away leaving her looking more tired and drained than Harry had ever seen her.

Her shoulders slumped and she choked out the last few sentences that she had been waiting years to say then ran from the room before Harry had even processed her words.

"I always knew you would do something like this" but instead of angry like he had expected she sounded resigned, pained in a way Harry never thought she was capable of.

"Always too much like _them_... Too much... How could you not fight like _them_ too? I always knew it, always knew..."

* * *

After the earth shattering (but confusing) revelations of his aunt Harry was inordinately happy to see a face he knew he would always, no matter what circumstance, be glad to see. Her bushy hair had started escaping the intricate plaits that must have taken hours to weave and tickled his cheek as she clutched him, and as she pulled back he stared fascinated at her red rimmed eyes and tear stained face. Hermione, the second ever person to care about him, to stick with him, his pseudo sister.

"There's a chance you know? That you could win, I've done a lot of research on the Games and it's sometimes someone you would never expect! You know in the 36th annual ga-" He silenced her with his palm which she promptly licked and he pulled a well practiced disgusted face at her in a perfect imitation Rita Skeeter's usual expression around District 12 tributes and their mentors.

"Sooo uncouth" He trilled in the odd Capitol accent. She just hit him on the shoulder with gesture of exasperated familiarity, although she did smile a little through her tears.

"You will try though wont you, seriously? For me, for Ron, for district 12, you will try to come home - even if it seems hopeless? Promise me Harry." The smile was gone and in that moment Harry thought he would have promised anything to get rid of the vulnerable look in her eyes, even though he knew she knew everything _was_ completely hopeless.

"Of course I'll try, it's what I do isn't it - the impossible. I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived after all" She swatted his smirk away the the ease borne of long practice but her face had lost some of its grave seriousness.

"You better not forget it." She whispered fiercely through the smiles and tears, "I've brought you my pin now, haven't I? Would be a pretty poor thing if you went and lost wearing _my_ trinket." pressing a pin into his hands before he had the opportunity to object.

"It's a Mocking-Jay" She added unnecessarily, Harry knew what it was - he loved the creatures after all, had a way with them, like they could understand his notes. The Capitol's failure, turned his happiness.

He couldn't find the right words to say and the rigid control he had over his emotions began to waver as his eyes misted slightly but then the peacekeeper came in and ushered Hermione out and in the they only had one last bone-crushing hug before she spirited away from the room and the moment passed as he was alone again. Left holding the intricate gold Mocking-Jay pin tight enough to leave little red imprints in his palm.

* * *

Ron was last then, his Mother and Father and all four of his big brothers and single little sister, everyone was crying and hugging and exchanging 'I love you's and 'I've always thought of you as my own'. There were the 'thank-you's, 'after saving Ginny like you did' and 'even after Fred's reaping' and 'I'm so sorry I can never repay you for what you've done for us.' so many that Harry could barely keep a hold of himself.

-but no, you're not to cry, it's going to be hard enough to get a sponsor as it is without blubbering everywhere-

Then Ron's twisted face, shaking with anger, his: 'How dare you's and 'I've killed you's and 'not even my own brothers would, but you sacrificed' s - and he raged and cried and clung to the desperately frail boy he had always tried to look after, but couldn't in the end.

They all looked in shame and anger and sorrow and it was all so sharp and it _burned_ but they couldn't look away. Couldn't turn from this paradoxically strong child with eyes flashing with hate and love and protectiveness more pronounced than even Molly Weasley could show. The child who just 6 years ago they hadn't known the name of, they couldn't have possibly conceived how much he would do for them, under the banner of friendship in such a short time.

So before they were pulled away, before they could catch that 'one last glimpse' of their honorary brother before he would be taken away to be slaughtered, they saluted him. This boy, this child who had done more against the capital in one sacrifice than hardened men had dared think about. The infamous imp of district 12 who caused trouble everywhere he went and smiled like an angel. 'Because if anyone isn't just a pawn'-

"It's you Harry."


	3. Chapter 3

The train that they had to travel on was definitely intimidating, it was probably the newest, shiniest thing Harry had ever seen in his life, not counting things he had seen on the screen of course. He felt at home on the bright red steel monster in a way he never had at the Dursley's - and the food! Never had he even imagined such a feast, not even on those long winter nights locked in his cupboard, where he had no extra game and the plants were all dying. He was dangerously close to forgetting that it wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to him but a glance at the ashen-faced Minerva and ice-cold exterior of Katie made him remember pretty quickly that this wasn't _just_ a game. That he, _Harry_ wasn't a pawn of the capital. That he was here to try and win, then to go home, no matter how impossible that task seemed.

Rita seemed overjoyed with their restraint while eating, Katie's because she was almost an adult and had come from a shop family, in the town area of district 12, Harry because he had tried to make himself better than his relatives in every way. Apparently she wasn't used to tributes that knew what a knife and fork were and was currently marveling at how civilized they were. Both Harry and Katie did however know hunger, constant and gnawing as it was most often in the coal district and were about ready to bite her head off at her constant harping about _manners_ of all things - people were dying back home! Didn't she care?

Apparently not, all too soon the plates had disappeared and the venerable mountain of food had been taken away. When Harry asked where it went Rita just scrunched up her nose and told him that they wouldn't be eating that _again_ - silly child it will be in the bins now! She either didn't notice her tributes declining mood and the way they glared hatefully at her monstrous pink wig or garish glittered red talons or she didn't care. Harry thought she seemed to self absorbed to see anything beyond her ridiculously over sized neon green glasses, or maybe just too stupid.

Though maybe she was a better judge of atmosphere because just seconds after they lapsed into a morbid silence (with Minerva hiccuping every few seconds) she lept up and dragged the unresisting Harry and Katie into another carriage exclaiming how the footage of the other reapings was just to die for. Harry thought it might of been hilarious in another situation 'Er, Rita we were going to die for it' - but at that moment all Harry could feel was dread. Before he never expected he would win, but he never actually thought about his death either, but now he was, because if he didn't kill them first one of these teens would get him.

It was District 1 first shown, as always and now that he wasn't hyperventilating in a crowd he could see clearly how much better the tributes were than him. Older. Bigger. Stronger. They were both Careers, volunteered for the _honor_ to fight. The Capitol's pets. The boy huge and blonde, seventeen and attractive - he would have no problems getting sponsored. Draco. The girl also huge but thankfully less attractive, the girl - Pansy was the same age as Draco but looked a little like her face had been squashed in an accident. District 2 same story, Hulking man 18 volunteered. Name: Victor. Subtle. The girl was much the same but failed to make an impression beyond her tearful goodbye with a boyfriend Poliakoff maybe? Her name was already forgotten.

So it went, through the districts. The only ones who stood out were a career from 4 - a beautiful girl of about 16 with long blonde hair and sea-blue eyes called Fleur who also volunteered in place of another. A rather fat girl from 5 who looked just like a toad, A huge grinning boy (Ernie) from 9 and a boy of Harry's age from 11, who was small and looked brittle with dark skin. He stood with his arms spread a little out to the side like a bird about to take flight and Harry fancied that the boy - Dobby, looked even smaller than himself which was saying something. The other tribute from 11 was a very tall very thin girl who looked a lot older than all of them, Harry decided to be weary of her.

Then it was Thirteen's turn. Harry watched as Katie walked to the podium she seemed a lot more sure footed on camera than Harry remembered but he supposed he wasn't paying much attention before, for the first time he began to consider hid fellow thirteen as a real opponent, which besides being terrifying for the obvious reasons (Harry small/stupid, others big/strong) was also terribly sad. Then he saw his own footage - did he really look that small, frantically pushing past the older kids in Dudley's too-big clothing? At least his voice was strong, loud and clear and he didn't fall over. The shot which was quickly cut next shocked and touched Harry almost as much as Hermione's pin treasure. As one the Weasley family kissed their fingers in the traditional goodbye respect salute and following them so did the rest of 12. He had never noticed.

Before anything else could be seen the screen cut to Tom Riddle, the game-maker talking passionately to Gilderoy about how the games had really 'brought us together' amidst Capitol cheering. But still Harry saw his people salute him over and over the image played over his lids and he felt for just a moment as though he could do this, win the games, come home say fuck you to the Capitol and everything would be good. Then Rita walked in with her crazy hair and painted face and corseted robes and she looked so big in the compartment that he realized that dreams are dreams for a reason and to hope for a life without the constant presence of the capitol was foolish and likely a good way to get him killed faster. Nevertheless as he lay that night in the first bed he had ever been allowed in he couldn't help but imagine a world where he was free. Where being _alive_ didn't get you killed as his aunt suggested.

* * *

"Embrace the probability of your imminent death and know in your heart that there is nothing I can do to save you."


End file.
